Not His Child
by TheFirstDarkblood
Summary: One drunken night will leave America with lasting consequences. RussiaxFemericaxUK


**This is my much, much belated prize fic for . I decided to break it up into two parts. I hope you enjoy!**

**Edit: It was brought to my attention that my breaklines were lost. I put them back in, so I hope it's a little less confusing now.**

World meetings were something America didn't particularly like. Sure, she loved to stand up and talk about her own amazing ideas, but eventually the other nations were going to insist on talking, and they were all pretty boring. So, when England ended his speech, and the day's meeting, America sighed happily. She enthusiastically gathered her materials and bounded over to her lover.

"Hey, Artie!"

England's normal scowl deepened.

"What are you so angry about?" asked America, tilting her head to the side.

"What I'm so angry about, _America_," said nation frowned at the use of her country name, "is your blatant disrespect for me and the other nations at this meeting."

"Okay, first off, I have no idea what blatant even means. Second, I didn't disrespect anyone!"

"You spent the entire meeting loudly unwrapping hamburgers and slurping down soda. And I know for a fact that during my speech you did nothing but doodle superheroes."

"Well, no offense, Artie, but your speech was totally boring."

"You insolent brat! That's what I mean by disrespect! You can't say things like that. You should be paying attention to each speech, taking notes and contributing meaningful thoughts or questions at the end of the presentation. You're a world power, America, start acting like one!"

"You're right, England," agreed the female nation angrily, slamming the bundle in her arms down on the nearby table. "I _am_ a world power, not some colony you can be bossing around!"

"Perhaps not a colony, but still a child and a simpleton. I don't know why I thought any kind of association with you would be a good idea!"

England turned and stormed out of the meeting room.

"Yeah, get out of my sight, you-you lobsterback!"

Silence filled the room as America stared at the door, waiting for Arthur to return to yell some more. When he did not, she let out a howl of rage and brought her fist down on the table, cracking it in half. She breathed deeply trying to calm herself. After a few moments, she wiped her eyes, grabbed her things and left the room. Canada stared at the crack in the table, just a few feet from where he sat, and thought of how lucky it was that Italy had been sitting in his chair today.

* * *

><p>America grumbled loudly into her glass of whiskey before tossing it back. She relished the burn of the alcohol, although it really did not feel like much anymore.<p>

"'Ey. 'Ey! Sh'more, pleash," called the drunken woman, waving down the bartender like he was a mile away. It was pretty unnecessary, as there were only a few people in the dimly lit bar.

The man behind the bar rolled his eyes as he grabbed a bottle from under the bar and poured the blonde another glass. He turned to walk away, but America reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

"'Ey. 'Ey! Jus'… Jus' leave dat 'ere."

The bartender looked back at her questioningly. He didn't think she really needed anymore, but he knew who she was and wasn't going to tell her she couldn't have it, so he placed the bottle of Jack Daniel's beside her glass and went to help another costumer. America, ignoring the newly filled glass, took the bottle and brought it to her lips, taking a long drink.

"Ah, Amerika, I was not expecting to see you here."

The female nation looked to her right. She was surprised to see a large nation sitting down beside her.

"Russia? Wud're ya doin' 'ere?"

"I am having a drink, same as you. Although, I am surprised that you are not drinking your bad excuse for beer."

"Dere's nothin' wrong wi' ma beer. Bud I need somethin' schtronger tanide."

Russia cocked his head to the side as he watched America take another swig from the bottle of Jack. It was a bit hard to understand her through her slur and thickening accent.

"What will you have, sir?"

The large man looked up at the bartender.

"Ah, yes. I will have a bottle of your best vodka."

"A _bottle _of vodka?"

"Da, a bottle, please. The best you have."

The man walked off to get a bottle of vodka, shaking his head and muttering about nations.

"So, dear Amerika, what has your, ah… your panties twisted, da?

"In a twisd. Englan' hash mah pandies in a twisd."

Russia looked at Amerika curiously as he took a gulp of the newly opened vodka. She was glaring at the bar top and downing whiskey faster than he had seen her drink anything other than Coca-Cola.

"He'shuch a… a… Ugh! Dere isn'd efen a word t'deshcripe 'im! He treadsh me like a chil', efen while admi'ing Imma world power! An' I gotta say, id's kinda creepy consi'erin' we're boinkin' now."

Russia wasn't entirely sure whether 'boinking' was actually some new American word, or just the product of alcohol, but he was pretty sure he understood what it meant.

"It seems he is often a source of trouble for you, da?"

America turned to look at him. She squinted her eyes in an attempt to mash the two Ivans into one and took another swig from her bottle.

"Led me te'ya 'boud id…"

* * *

><p>Consciousness pressed into America's mind. She was groggy and her head hurt, along with some other body parts. Warmth radiated from her left side.<p>

"Mnn, Artie," mumbled the hung-over female as she snuggled closer to the warm body.

"Would appreciate not being called wrong name."

Allison froze. That was not an English accent. That was… it couldn't be… Blue eyes opened and America jumped up onto the bed.

"Get out of my bed you Commie rapist!"

Russia groaned and pushed himself up on his hands and knees. He was on the floor now and there was a horrible ache on his right side.

"You will find, Amerika, you are in my bed."

"What did you do?" demanded the American from where she stood on the bed, sheet pressed tightly to her body. "Drug my drink?"

"Amerika," groaned the Russian, finally standing. "You had two bottles of whiskey. You drugged yourself."

"So you took advantage of me!"

"I had also been drinking, Amerika."

"So? You're entire bloodstream is filled with vodka!"

Russia ran a hand down his face. He could not understand why the woman had to be so difficult.

"Amerika, both our decision making facilities were affected. It does not have to be a big thing. Take a shower, put on your clothes, go find your lover. Forget this. It does not need to affect our lives."

Allison visibly deflated as she considered Ivan's words.

"R-right… sorry. I just… I'm not used to waking up in strange beds, I guess."

"It is fine."

America nodded and quickly gathered her clothes.

"Do you mind?"

Ivan rolled his eyes but turned none the less. The female pulled on her clothes and mumbled a goodbye before slipping out of the room. She hoped, for once, that England was not in their room this morning.

* * *

><p>The horrible sound of retching filled America's bathroom, just as it had every day for the past weeks. America honestly felt like crying as she flushed down her lunch. All week she had been telling herself she had food poisoning, the flu, something. But she couldn't lie to herself anymore. She was pregnant. Sighing, she grabbed her phone from the sink.<p>

_Arthur come by asap_

* * *

><p>Pacing wasn't usually something that America did. Pacing meant that you didn't know what to do, and America hated not knowing what to do. She'd rather rush into something stupid than sit around and wait for something to happen. She really wished that she could think of something, anything, to do, but all she could do was pace. Finally, her doorbell rang and she rushed to answer the call. She stopped, hand on the handle, and took a deep breath. Dread pooled in her stomach. She opened the door. England was waiting for her on the other side, trying to mask his concern with annoyance. America opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She swallowed, and then tried again.<p>

"I, uh, c-come in."

Frowning, Arthur followed her into the house, closing the door as he went.

"America? Is everything alright?"

The female turned to look at her lover.

"I, uh, I gotta tell you something."

"Alright."

"Can we, uh, can we sit down?"

England nodded and moved to sit down on one end of her couch. He gestured her to join him, but when she did she didn't sit very close, and England was a bit disappointed.

Allison didn't look at him at first, she couldn't. Instead, she looked down at her hands. After nearly a minute she took a deep breath and looked up at the other nation.

"Arthur, I'm… I'm pregnant."

England stared at America in shock.

"Is it…?"

Allison shook her head solemnly.

"Oh," answered the Englishman dejectedly, but immediately he took the girl's hand. "Are you okay? I haven't heard anything in the news, but is it violent? A split, or…"

"England. It's… I mean, the culture, it's not just American."

"But… But you said that it wasn't…"

"It's," the girl took another deep breath. "It's Russian-American."

England dropped her hand and stared at her blankly.

"Arthur, I'm so sorry, I don't even know what to say, I ju-"

"You… you cheated on me with Russia?" asked the dejected nation, looking down at his lap.

"Artie, please, it's not-"

"You slept with Russia, of all people? Do you really hate me that much?"

"No, Arthur, of course not! I was drunk, I don't even remember it. Please believe me; I would never hurt you intentionally."

"You've done it before," whispered Arthur so quietly that America barely heard it.

Allison frowned and tried to take Arthur's hand, but the man shifted away from her.

"Arthur, you know I didn't do that to hurt you. It was just time for me to have my own government."

England nodded, still looking solemn. "Does he know?"

America, confusion written across her face, muttered an eloquent, "Huh?"

"Russia. Have you told him?"

"Oh, uh, no. I wanted to tell you first."

England nodded and stood up.

"Don't tell him," demanded the Englishman as he walked toward the door.

"W-what? Arthur, he's going to kno-"

Arthur looked back. The look on his face broke America's heart.

"Will you just let me pretend that the love of my life hasn't cheated on me with man she supposedly hates more than anything? Just for a few weeks?"

Allison hung her head, shame and anguish weighing on her shoulders.

"Of course," she whispered.

England nodded, though she couldn't see him, and left. The last thing Allison heard before she allowed the tears to start falling was her lover closing the door between them.


End file.
